The Soul Mate (Roommates, # 4)

“They have dividers,” he said. “You can get more than one.”

He handed me a cup with four-way divider in it and I went to town pouring pistachio, coconut, chocolate-covered pretzel, and salted caramel yogurt into my cup. When I was done, I met him at the buffet of toppings and noticed him shoveling chocolate-covered raspberry jellies onto a massive serving of chocolate yogurt.

“Chocolate lover, huh?” I asked.

He nodded, then made for the brownie bits like he’d never seen anything so decadent before in his life. “For sure.”

“I’m more of a yogurt purist.” I squirted fluffy whipped cream on top of each of the sections of my yogurt, then set it on the scale for the friendly-looking cashier.

“I’ve got it,” Mason said, “Just give me a minute.”

He stopped in front of the hot fudge canister and poured a healthy dollop on top of what had to be a two-thousand-calorie dessert.

If I’d been worried about having to be super healthy around him just because he was a doctor, his actions blew that theory out of the water. We were going to be ourselves, and that made me smile.

When I looked up, I saw the cashier eyeing him like she wanted to devour him, and a surge of jealousy coursed through me before I got hold of myself again.

“All set,” he said, then shelled out the money to pay for our treats before making his way to one of the little white tables in the front of the store.

I grabbed a cheery-looking magenta spoon and joined him at the table, ready to dig in.

“Okay, so, down to business.” He took a spoonful of what had to be pure hot fudge, then said, “You want to talk about the baby. Let’s work it all out so you won’t need to worry about it for at least a month.”

“Well, there’s the complex stuff.” I played with my pistachio yogurt. “Like, I’ll need to learn a lot. I’m an only child-I don’t have much experience with babies. I’ll need to consider looking into classes and such.”Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’ve got you covered.” He shrugged. “I know everything about babies. When your milk comes in, the benefits and detriments of nursing, all of it. I know every stage of pregnancy backward and forward.”

“Right.” I tilted my mouth to the side. “But what if something is wrong?”

“I have a friend who will look after you just to be on the safe side.”

I took a deep breath. Okay, that made sense. “And what about the other stuff…the exciting stuff?”

“Like what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Picking out a name. Picking out colors for the nursery. I won’t get to do any of that. Plus, what if you really want to name your son after yourself and I want a different name?”

“Something wrong with the name Mason?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No, I just had a different name in mind.”

“What’s that?”

“For a boy, it’s really important to me to name him Jacob.” It had been my father’s name, the name my parents would have given me if I’d been a boy. The name my brother might have had if my father had lived long enough to have another child.

“What’s so special about Jacob?” he asked.

It was the perfect chance to tell him-to explain why I couldn’t be his one and only, even if I’d wanted to. But I wasn’t ready for all that just yet. I couldn’t open my heart like that-especially not to someone who was still relatively a stranger.

“It’s a family name,” I said simply.

He nodded. “Jacob it is, then. Problem solved.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I picked the boy name. Feels only fair you pick the name for a girl.”

“That’s easy. Gwen.”

“Gwen?” I asked. I didn’t mind the sound of it. In fact, it was even kind of cute.

He nodded again. “It’s my mother’s name. I think she’d be honored.”

“Settled then. Gwen or Jacob.” I stabbed my spoon into my yogurt, trying to ignore the completely overwhelming feeling that-now that this baby had a name-everything was all too real. Which, of course, it might not be.

But then…

If it was, didn’t I owe it to my child to give his or her father a chance? It might destroy me in the process, but then…didn’t all parents make huge, life-changing sacrifices for their children?

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll do it your way. But you keep the envelope. If I have it, I’m going to rip into it. I can’t live with the temptation.”

He gave me a solemn nod, but the envelope was only half the temptation. Now that I’d made my decision, it was sort of open season, at least for now, on the good Dr. Bentley.

And the thought excited me almost as much as it terrified me.